


Royal Engorgement

by Grammarwoman



Category: Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement RPF, The Princess Diaries - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesty Challenge, Community: kink_bingo, F/M, RPF, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grammarwoman/pseuds/Grammarwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne is tired of being offered virginal roles, so she asks Chris to help her feel degraded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royal Engorgement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leupagus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leupagus/gifts), [screamlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/gifts), [waldorph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waldorph/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Driven Outside and Driven In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/101516) by [leupagus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leupagus/pseuds/leupagus), [screamlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/pseuds/screamlet), [waldorph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waldorph/pseuds/waldorph). 



> I've had the idea for this in my head ever since I read the id-pleasing, hot-like-whoa Princess Diaries 2 story [Driven Outside and Driven In](http://archiveofourown.org/works/101516/chapters/139096), aka "Five Times Nick and Mia would've totally Done It had it not been for the fact that this is a kid's movie." I am totally easy for Chris Pine, and I like Anne Hathaway, so hey, what's wrong with a little RPF? This is dedicated to the trio of talented authors who inspired me; I hope you don't hate this.
> 
> My apologies for the terrible title. Once I thought of it, I couldn't get rid of it.

Chris loves this coffee shop; all the baristas have impenetrable LA faces, with barely a flicker of interest when a celebrity comes up to the counter. Not that he qualifies yet - as he tells his proud parents, a few TV guest-starring roles and Disney fluff do not an A-lister make. Chris has been here enough, though, that they know his usual order by heart, and they’re not completely immune to his best charming grin. Sometimes when there’s a line, like now, they’ll have his latte ready by the time he gets to the register.

"Pssst! Chris!"

He takes a quick look around as he turns away from the counter with the cup in his hand. The crowd in front of him must have all left, as there's only a few people sitting in the coffee shop: a couple chatting in low voices, some aspiring author clicking away on a laptop, and a newspaper held up conspicuously wide. As he watches, the newspaper dips to reveal a baseball hat perched above Jackie-O shades and a big grin.

He checks her out. The long legs are hidden by jeans, and under the cap her hair is smoothed back in a ponytail, but there's no mistaking that wide smile highlighted in glossy red.

He grins back and sits down at her table. "Annie! What're you doing here? And what's with the undercover gear? Slumming it with the common folk?"

"Hah, Chrissy, very funny." Anne rolls her eyes at him and folds up her paper. ”If you must know, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d look you up.”

“The great thing about living in the future is that we have this amazing technology called cellular phone service.” He waggles his phone at her. “You could have just called.”

She shrugs. “Maybe I just wanted to see your ugly face again.”

“Too bad you’re not a casting director.” Chris sighs and pouts.

Anne leans over to pat him on the hand. “Poor baby. Princess-heads across the country are diddling themselves with My Littly Pony vibrators thinking of you. Just wait until their daddies wake up and smell the Teen Spirit and start cashing in on your scoundrel appeal.”

He laughs. Witnessing the vulgarities of America’s latest sweetheart is almost as much fun as finding out that Mary Poppins has a mouth like a sailor and an alcohol tolerance to match.

She whips off her sunglasses and glares at him. “Fuck you, Pine, you’re doing it again.”

“What?” he says, distracted by a long sip of his coffee.

“That smirk that says ‘look at the virgin saying something naughty’. Like I’m actually some goddamn fairy-tale princess instead of a grown woman.”

“If the glass slipper fits.” He shrugs and drinks some more.

“You are such an asshole,” she hisses and flings the newspaper at him. It hits the cup in his hand, splashing coffee all over his face and T-shirt. By the time he’s finished mopping himself off and looks up again, Anne’s gone. He sighs and buys another latte, getting the stink-eye from the woman at the register. He’s got to work on his rueful grin when she doesn’t even thaw at his aw-shucks expression.

~*~

It’s a few days later and Chris is vowing to not to call his agent for the next week, after yesterday’s threat to block Chris’ number if he didn’t stop. He’s out for walk to get away from his apartment and the walls that are closing in on him when the phone rings.

"Chris, I need you to get over here and come on my face."

Chris nearly trips over the curb and into a garbage can. "Annie?"

"Seriously, it’s time to bukkake me up, buttercup." She sounds determined. She is, however, a fairly good actress, so Chris isn't buying it. He does a visual sweep, looking for a telltale long lens poking out of the bushes.

"Pardon me, darling, but W. T. F.? Didn't we have a no Punk'd agreement? Does that Ashton motherfucker have something on you?"

Anne sighs. He can feel the force of her eye roll through the phone lines. "Chris, get your ass over here right now, or I'm going to sell the tabloids the story of our torrid romance and how you cruelly dumped me to be Julie Andrews’ pool boy."

"Hey! First of all, I should be so lucky to clean her pool, literally or not, and you're the one with the 'I don't date actors' complex!" That rejection had finally stopped stinging. Mostly.

"Yeah, and whom are they going to believe?" From anyone else, it would be a sneer, but Anne's delivery is ice-queen steady. He's already hating that perfect eyebrow he can tell she's got raised.

"You know, a nice person making a polite booty call would have just asked a friend, instead of threatening him." Chris mentally reviews his schedule and sighs; it’s wide open, possibly for the rest of his life, if his career doesn’t pick up soon.

"Then I'm finally doing something right. Get a move on." She hangs up. He blows a raspberry at his phone. Dealing with another rejection from his agent would have been so much easier.

Chris ponders the situation on the drive over. He’s a young Hollywood stud; if he really were an asshole, he’d consider this his due. But Anne, damn her, is way above him in celebrity cachet. She’s talented, funny, smart, and disarmingly beautiful, and he’s a Berkeley boy who has read the posters and attended the rallies and is justifiably respectful of a woman’s right to bodily autonomy, informed of the insidious effect of rape culture, and aware of the pernicious pull of porn. So basically, he’s torn between horny and worried.

He knocks once on her door before it’s whipped open.

“What, did you stop for an instructional video first? Get in here!” Anne grabs a fistful of his shirt and yanks him inside, slamming the door after him. “And stop thinking about this so hard. You’ll get wrinkles.”

He’s too busy gaping at her to reply. She’s slutted up in the best Frederick’s of Hollywood has to offer, a filmy robe tied over a black see-through bustier with attached garters holding up a pair of stockings. A tiny thong completes the look. Of course she looks gorgeous and utterly fuckable. Chris’ body slams into total arousal so quickly he almost passes out from blood loss to his brain.

She must find his expression of gobsmacked-by-lust gratifying, because her irritated scowl is replaced by a smile. “That’s better. Now, shall we?” She latches onto his waistband and pulls him close enough to start undoing the buckle of his belt.

“Hey, wait, whoa, time-out, STOP RED STOP!” He’s waving wildly, trying hard not to lay hands on her milky-soft skin while extricating himself from her grip.

She takes a step back. “Safewords, schmafewords, what is your problem? I thought when a woman offers sex, you say yes!”

“No, Annie, what the fuck is _your_ problem?” He retreats behind a chair, hoping to delay another advance with some furniture in the way. “If you’re not going to buy me dinner, at least start with ‘Hello’ or something.”

“The fuck is my problem, Chris. As in, no one in this fucking town believes I can fuck or be fucked, or can fucking say ‘fuck’. I’m doomed to play pristine virgins and princesses for as long as Botox will let me. I might as well have Disney tattooed on my fucking forehead for all that people can’t take me seriously!” She whirls around and the robe flares up behind her. Her perfect ass is a distraction that he can’t afford right now.

“And, uh,” he coughs nervously, “Using me like a rent-boy is going to fix that how? I don’t think semen is a mystical, theoretical-tattoo remover.”

She snorts in spite of herself. “Cute, Pine.” She takes a couple of deep breaths and turns to face him again.

“This face, Chris.” She waves a hand around her head. “What do you see when you look at this face?”

“Um, a beautiful gi-woman?” Shit. He braces himself.

“A girl. A beautiful, innocent, untouchable girl. And you’ve laughed at my dead nun jokes, and seen me without makeup in the morning, and heard me belch the alphabet. How am I supposed to convince a stranger that I’m not a porcelain doll?” She walks up to him. “By knowing inside that I’ve been degraded and filthy, that I can be just as dirty as the next casting-couch ingenue. Without the casting couch part, because, really, ew.” She grimaces.

He nods cautiously. “So why me?”

“Because you, Mr. Pine, can sell kinky, creepy breath play on prime time TV, and still be a gentleman in real life. Because you won’t take this the wrong way and think we have a thing. Because I trust you, and I’m asking nicely.”

He scoffs. “As of when?”

She smolders at him from under her long eyelashes and walks her fingers down his chest. “Please, Chris? Please, will you use me and degrade me, and still respect me later?”

He makes a show of pondering her offer and blows out a huge sigh. “You drive a hard bargain, ma’am. I’ll do this on one condition.”

“No pictures!” she warns him with a sharp poke into his abdomen.

“Oof!” He rubs his stomach. “I was gonna say, can I kiss you first?”

Her face lights up as she laughs. “You romantic sap.”

“It’s a burden, but I get by.”

She shrugs off her robe and leans in to kiss him. The first taste of her lipstick is distracting, but he gets with the program when her mouth opens and he feels the touch of her tongue. Even as he’s distracted by the kiss, Chris tries to find a non-naked place on her body to put his hands, then gives it up and pulls her towards him with his fingers spanning her waist. His thumbs stroke over the softness of the hollow of her hips, and she shivers and grinds into him. The rub of her groin over his cock gets him even harder.

He leans back out of the kiss when the lack of oxygen starts to become a problem. “One more thing.”

“What?” she breathes into his neck, followed by her tongue tracing the outline of his ear.

“Can I-” He muffles a yelp as she nips at his earlobe. “I get to make you come first.”

She pulls back and mulls it over for a moment. “Why?”

“Because you’re the one who wants to feel used, not me. I like a certain reciprocity in my sexual encounters.”

“Such big words, Christopher,” she purrs, then thinks for a moment. “Yes.”

The word barely leaves her lips before he has her tossed over his shoulder. She laughs in delight.

“Which way to your bedroom, my dear?” He smacks her ass.

“Down the hall, last door on the left, tough guy.” One of her feet dangling in front of him points off in the general direction.

“Thanks, doll.” She’s not heavy, but she’s tall and leggy, so it’s a little awkward navigating to the bedroom. He makes it with a minimum of bumping and tosses her onto the bed. When she’s done bouncing, a little disheveled from being upside down, she still looks fucking gorgeous, maybe even more so than usual. She wiggles up and into the middle of bed and props herself up on her elbows.

He stands there for a few seconds, just drinking in the sight of her on full display.

“What?” she asks.

“You don’t even know,” he says, shaking his head. “How impossibly beautiful you are.”

She huffs. “Impossible usually translates as untouchable, and that’s part of the problem.”

Chris stares at her. If he’s going to do this, he’s going all the way. “Oh, I’m going to touch you all right. I’m going to touch you until you scream.”

She licks her lips and smiles. “We’ll see.”

His answering grin is predatory, and he crawls onto the bed.

“Aren’t you going to take off your clothes?” she asks.

“Shut up, bitch. You’re not here to ask questions.”

She frowns at him, then nods in understanding, stifling a smirk. “Sorry.”

He kneels up over her. “Take off your panties, princess.”

She glares at him and hooks her thumbs into the sides of her thong. Evidently she’s planned for this maneuver, as the thong skims off easily over the garters and dangles from her fingers. He keeps his eyes locked on hers for the moment, then lets his gaze roam down her body.

“Look at you, slut. Such easy access. I bet the only reason you put on underwear is so your juicy pussy doesn’t drip down your legs. Show me how juicy you are, slut.”

She looks up at him, startled. Her hands draw up defensively.

He sits back and sighs. “Annie, if this isn’t working for you, just say so. I’m trying to do what you wanted, but I’m not going any farther if this is going to be weird.”

“No! This is good. I’m just... I wasn’t expecting you to really get into this. Or be so intimidating with it,” she says sheepishly.

“You’re not the only one in this bed who’s more than a pretty face,” he replies, and winks.

“Clearly,” she says. “Please proceed. I’ll tap out or something if it gets too much.”

“No, I want us to be sure about this. Say ‘Whitelaw’ if you want to stop.”

“Whitelaw?” she asks. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s my middle name.” He shrugs. “Total mood killer, trust me. I hear it and think of my mom yelling at me.”

“Huh, fair enough.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “OK. I’m ready.”

“I said, show me your juicy pussy, bitch. Or do I need to tell you how?” He chooses not to dwell on how easy it is to drop back into the scene in favor of enjoying the view of Anne taking a deep breath before pulling her knees back and out to show off her glistening cunt, hairless except for a porn star landing strip. She must be enjoying herself more than she let on, or maybe that’s what surprised her. In any case, he’s totally going for this.

“You’re so wet, slut. Wet and begging for it.” He lightly strokes a knuckle across her cunt, noting how she quivers and takes a shuddering breath. “You don’t even want the part when you walk into a director’s office, do you? You just want to get fucked on his desk like the dirty whore that you are.” He slides a finger into her to feel her muscles clench around him. “You’d fuck everyone on the set, to fill up this aching pussy.” He adds another finger, easing them in and out.

She has a death grip on her thighs, holding herself wide open. She’s breathing faster now, and her eyes are tightly shut. The rise and fall of her breasts is severely distracting, not to mention the squeeze of her cunt on his hand, but he keeps on going.

“Isn’t that right? You want everyone to fuck you. Lay you out on the craft table and have one crewmember after another in you, fill you, use you. Men, women, anyone who wants to shove something in your cunt to get you off.”

She’s fucking herself onto his fingers now, trying to get them as deep as they’ll go. He pulls them out and licks them off, savoring the salty sourness of her. She whimpers and pulls her knees even wider.

“What’s that, slut? Did you want something?”

She tosses her head from side to side.

“The free ride is over, princess. You want something, you gotta ask for it.”

“Please,” she moans. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please put your fingers back!”

“Back where, slut?”

“In my...” she gasps. “In my juicy pussy.”

“Like this?” he asks as he slides three fingers into her, crooking them back and forth. “Or...” He takes his other hand and gets a finger wet in her damp folds, then trails it down to her tight hole in back, circling it with the fingertip. “Maybe this one?”

She arches off the bed at his touch with a high-pitched gasp.

“I should have known a filthy slut like you would want it up the ass. Maybe next time, princess. For now, I wanna see how wet you can get.” His hand is already soaked and her cunt has a near-scalding grip on his fingers. He sets the thumb of his other hand against her clit and rubs roughly.

Her moans creep upwards in pitch, her mouth wide open and her eyes tightly closed. She bucks her hips up to his touch, her whole body moving with the force of it. Then she wails and a warm gush shoots across his hands. He sets the heel of his palm against her clit, letting her grind through the aftershocks of her orgasm.

“What a good little slut you are,” he says. Her hands are flopped to her sides, and her legs have collapsed on the bed. She’s panting just the slightest bit. “But you’re not even done, are you? A filthy, nasty whore like you always wants more.”

Chris wipes his hands on her blanket and climbs off the bed. He toes out of his footwear and strips out of his clothes, gently easing his pants and boxers over his erection. Anne is watching him, eyes fixed on the swing of his cock as he walks back to her. She evidently likes what she sees, licking her lips. He finds it very encouraging, but feels like he should make sure things are still fine in her head.

“Can we pause for a sec?” he asks.

She sighs. “Fine. What?”

“You doing OK in there?” He gestures vaguely at her head. “Is this working for you?”

She pointedly looks down at the wet spot between her legs and back up at him. “This wasn’t a big enough sign for you?”

“I caught that. I mean, the talking part, the...humiliation and everything.” God, this is awkward, he thinks, but consent uber alles, even when it slows down the sexy times.

“Chris. I will admit to having hurt feelings that you never told me about your other job as a role-playing gigolo, seeing as that was AMAZING, but I’ll let that go if you fucking get back to it! Now!” Her imperious chin, tilted up with her command, fades down as he looms over her.

“Are you giving me orders, bitch?” He takes a chance and grabs a fistful of hair at the back of her head, pulling her face closer to his. “Who the fuck do you think is in charge here?”

He’s not sure if the small whimper that escapes her is playacting or not, but he eases up on his grip and lets go. “Where are the condoms? I’m not sticking my dick in your dirty cunt without protection. With the cast of thousands that’s been in there, who knows what I’d get.”

Anne fumbles under the pillow next to her and tosses the box towards him. He bends over to get him, making sure to slap her in the face with his cock. Her tongue darts out for a quick taste.

“Of course you’re a cocksucker, a hungry little cockslut.” It kills him to pull back out of reach, when what he really wants is to shove his cock down her throat, but he’s got to maintain his control. Just the thought of her lips wrapped around him is dizzying enough to make it difficult to pull a condom out of the box. “Like I’d put my dick in there either, with nothing in the way. I might as well go swirl it in a petri dish at an STD clinic.”

Her pout at that inspires him. He unrolls the condom part way onto his thumb and holds it up to her lips. “Open wide, tramp.” When her jaw drops at that, he slides his thumb into her mouth and up her tongue. “Now hold tight to this with just your lips. You don’t want me to think you’re some kind of prom night virgin, do you, whore?”

Chris slips his thumb out before she can bite him, and positions his cock at her lips. “Keep it nice and tight, probably the only way you can - god only knows how loose and sloppy your cunt is by now, with the cast of thousands you’ve invited in. Is it true that you sit on the curb with your legs spread when the tour buses go by so they can all get in on that action?”

He slowly presses in with his cock before she can answer, holding himself back from the temptation to thrust himself in balls-deep. He settles for working in a couple of inches and rolling it up the rest of the way with his hand.

Chris growls, “Now show me how good you can suck it, and maybe I’ll stick it in a different hole and let you get off again.”

The image is even better than he imagined; Anne’s cheeks are hollowed as she bobs her head up and down, taking him deeper and faster each time until her eyes start to tear up when he hits the back of her throat. It feels so incredible, so hot and slick and tight, that he knows he can’t last long if he lets her keep going at that pace. He grips a handful of hair at the back of her head and tilts it back, holding her in place so he can slow down, easing his cock in and out, trying not to bottom out with each stroke. “Fuck,” he moans, not caring how gone he sounds. “You shouldn’t give this away for free, princess. Forget about the acting - you’ll go farther and be a filthy rich star just for your cocksucking.”

It’s not even a lie at that moment; she’s a phenomenal actress, but her mouth is a fucking indecent piece of work. He sighs and pulls out while he still has some control. Her lips chase after his cock, her head pulling against the hand he still has in her hair.

Chris laughs, putting as much mocking cruelty into it as he can. “Who’s the little gaping cooze, the dirty skank who misses being filled up with cock in any hole she can get it? Don’t worry, slut, you’ve earned another visit to your hungry little cunt.”

He can’t help himself; it’s not in keeping with the whole protection rant he’s got going on, but the smell of her, all musky wetness, is driving him crazy. He wraps his hands around her knees to open them up, then nips at her inner thighs before burying his mouth in her cunt.

Anne shrieks and only misses crushing his head because of his grip on her legs. She’s even wetter than before, his lips and tongue sliding with barely any friction over her folds. The taste of her is rich and salty. He circles her clit with his tongue in a tight spiral that ends with a grazing scrape of his teeth. Chris doesn’t know if she’s even aware of her continuous, soft chant of “fuck fuck fuck”, but the thought of her being so far gone is driving him to distraction. He laps at her with long, flat strokes; the tip of his tongue flicks over her clit at the top of each lick. He’s pretty sure that she’s close, so he digs in slightly with his fingernails on her thighs and sucks hard on her clit.

His face is soaked when she’s done coming and lies gasping on the bed.

He is so fucking hard, and has been for so long, that it’s almost painful. But he’s got to keep control for just a little longer if he’s going to see this thing through to her desired conclusion. He waits for her breathing to slow the slightest bit, then he shoves her over so she faceplants into a pillow.

The black stripe of the bustier across her back is in sharp contrast to her skin, but not for long. He unhooks it and pulls her arms out of the straps. Anne’s still wrung out enough that her arms flop back down.

“Who’s the little fucked-out ragdoll, hm? Raggedy Anne’s got no bones. Maybe I should give her one of mine.” He nudges at her ass with his cock. She feebly bats at it without looking.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He grabs up both of her wrists and wraps the straps of her lingerie around them, and then ties them to a slat in the headboard.

“What are you doing?” she mutters into her arm, trying to turn her head to see down her back.

He smacks her lightly on her ass. It leaves a faint pink impression of his hand. “Shut up, bitch. It’s time for me to see what that cunt of yours is good for.”

Chris yanks up on her hips and spreads her knees with his own. He wipes the head of his cock up and down, getting the condom wet, then plunges inside her cunt.

Even through the condom, he can tell how hot, wet, and tight she is, and he almost comes in that first thrust. He pauses to think of unsexy things - bad auditions, his douchier moments in high school, how pissed off Anne will be if he fucks this up - and eases back from the brink. He pumps in and out with slow strokes, savoring the feel of her body. Anne is evidently recovered, as she’s started pushing back into him.

“Fuck, Chris, are you taking the scenic route?” she says. With her hands tied at the headboard and her knees spread apart from his, she can’t get much leverage.

He wraps his hands around her hipbones and pounds into her hard a single time and stops. “I said, shut up, bitch! Unless you want your skanky cunt rag shoved down your throat to keep you quiet.” The image of Anne’s glossy red lips parted by her black thong is fucking hot, but he’s enjoying the frustrated whines and curses she’s moaning as she tries to get him into motion again.

He lets her struggle for a bit, rocking in the shallowest of thrusts, keeping her on the edge. “I changed my mind. Beg me for it, princess.” He slams into her another time. “Or I stop and leave you like this, all tied up and wanting to come so bad you’ll scream for anyone to kick down the door and finish you.”

She shakes her head, her hair whipping back and forth.

His grip on her hips tightens; he leans forward to hiss into her ear, “Beg. Or I walk.”

“You dickless fucker!” she grits out.

He laughs. “Oh, no, slut.” He presses in as far as he can go; she whimpers slightly as he bottoms out. “Too much cock for you, maybe. The parade of pencil-dicked pubes you’ve had couldn’t have satisfied a hungry whore like you. Now, unless you want me to end this here...” He starts to pull out.

“No! Please,” she whispers.

“Oh, did you have something to say, princess? Something you wanted?”

“Fuck me, please!” Her voice is louder and higher.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s just fucking that you want.” He punctuates his words with a couple more hard thrusts. “Isn’t that right?”

“Goddamn it!” She’s struggling to get her knees under her so she can push back.

He slaps her on the ass. “That’s not begging, slut. Tell me how bad you want it.”

She takes a deep breath. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard, until I come.”

He slaps her ass again, harder. “Try that again, bitch.”

“Fuck me hard, please! I want to come!” Her voice rises until she’s practically sobbing.

Chris makes her wait a beat, then another, before he reaches up, unties her hands, and flips her over. Her back is barely on the bed before he’s balls-deep in her, fucking into her again and again, hard enough that she braces her hands against the headboard to stop her head from knocking into it. He wants to see her lose it one more time. With what little control he has left, it has to be soon.

Her breasts are bouncing with the force of each thrust. He captures one with a hand, savoring the fullness of it. Her nipple, pebbled into ruby hardness, scrapes against his palm. He rolls it between his fingertips and then pinches it, pulling it up a little bit.

The extra sensation must be just what Anne needs. She throws back her head and wails, her cunt clenching his cock in rhythmic flutters. He bites his lip and holds on to his own impending orgasm while letting her finish shuddering and thrashing.

It’s a close call, but he manages to wait until she’s collapsing back on the bed to pull out. He’s been so hard for so long that the feeling of pulling off the condom is almost painful.

“Hey, buttercup, here’s your main event!” It takes him only a couple of strokes with his hand before he’s coming. Long, ropey white stripes coat her face and tits; wrecked as she is, she doesn’t even flinch as they land on her body.

His orgasm feels like it goes on forever, locked in a moment of being emptied of every single sensation and emotion. He aims himself to land just to the side of her and lets himself fall into the bed.

~*~

Chris has no idea how long he’s been out when he gradually rises back into consciousness. Anne is curled up next to him, stroking his back. He flops his head around to look at her. She smiles at him.

“Now who’s the princess, Sleeping Beauty?” she teases. She’s gotten cleaned up at some point, as her face is scrubbed free of makeup and come. He sighs; she’d said no pictures, so the brief sight of her covered in his spunk will have to live on only in his memory.

“How’d I do?” He blinks at her, knowing he must look ridiculously bleary and bed-headed.

She purrs, “Fan-fucking-tastic. A little shaky on the dismount, but overall, nice work, slugger.”

He grunts. “‘Nice work’. Eh, I’ll take it.”

“Oh, Chris, you were amazing and you know it. I feel ravished, debauched, and utterly, wantonly defiled.” She ruffles his hair and giggles. “But really, you’ll have to tell me sometime just which acting teacher I have to thank for that performance.”

“School of hard knocks, baby.” He scrubs a hand over his face and head, combing his hair out of his eyes, and struggles into sitting up. “Surrounded by beautiful women who always turn me down.”

“Poor baby.” She yawns and stretches. “So, for services rendered, may I offer you dinner and a movie?”

“That depends...do we have to go out for it?”

Anne pulls the pillow out from behind his back and whacks him with it. “Lazy butt. You pick the take-out menu, I’ll pick the movie. But, please, Pine, make sure to dress for dinner.” She scoops his underwear off the floor and chucks it at his head. Fending off his boxers, he notices that she’s changed into a baggy shirt and cut-off sweatpants. She sails out the door. From down the hall, he hears her say, “Shower’s free if you want it.”

He can’t tell if the lingering miasma of sex is coming more from him or the bed. As he ponders getting clean, it occurs to him that she hasn’t kicked him out yet, nor has she shut down the possibility of a second round. He grins as he slips into his boxers and shirt. He’ll take his chances sitting beside her for the next couple of hours, smelling of the good time they just had, to see if she might be persuaded to go again. There’s got to be more than one kinky fantasy floating around in that wicked brain of hers. Even if she doesn’t, he’s got a few suggestions.


End file.
